Two Conversations
by Tap Canfield
Summary: Dean has a talk with Castiel and Sam in the immediate aftermath of 14x12.


The drive back to the bunker passed in silence, for the words that still demanded to be spoken knew that now was not the time to intrude. They would come, as they must, after the obligatory interlude of reflection that must necessarily precede conversation if words are to organise themselves into the expression of the soul. But for now it was silence, a grey, deflating, resigned silence, the only kind of silence that can sink upon three damaged men who have just grasped at a temporary reprieve.

Slowly, Sam's heart eased from a stomping to a shaky patter. Castiel stared into the back of Dean's head with the solemnity of one who understands that resolution is far from hand. And Dean, as always, gazed tensely through the windscreen, still burdened, still sceptical, but clinging onto whatever he could – faith, hope or even delusion – that his brother and friend were right, that there might be another way.

On their return, Sam went straight to his room. No words, no mumbled goodnight, he didn't even look back. Dean wanted to reach out, grab his shoulder, touch his arm and ask if he was all right, but resisted the urge. They needed some time. Time to think about what had been said, time to think about what might come next.

The angel – that damned angel, who meant so much, who he loved almost as much as Sam – was watching him. Overcome with a rush of affection for his friend, Dean threw his arms around Cas. The unexpected hug caused the angel to blink in surprise, but he quickly returned it, his hands patting the centre of Dean's back.

"I'm glad Sam was able to talk some sense into you," he said as Dean drew back.

" _Knock_ it, more like." Dean traced his fingers over the spot where Sam had punched him, where the beginnings of a small bruise were forming. He hadn't been angry, not even for a second. It had taken him aback, Sam striking him, just briefly, before he realised his brother was in pain and needed relief. He winced as he thought of what the past few days must have been like for Sam and kicked himself for not seeing it – or maybe refusing to see it because, as he himself had admitted, Sam's distress and agony was the only thing that could have – and _had_ – steered him off that path.

He sighed. "Could do with a whiskey. You?"

"It would be useful," his friend acknowledged.

They settled at the table, each holding a glass, the bottle between them. Dean knocked back a shot in one gulp and poured another. Castiel, always slower and more methodical with his drinking, took a small sip.

"I _am_ your friend," the angel said suddenly. "Which is why I couldn't accept what you were planning to do."

Dean opened his mouth, but Cas held up his hand. "I've learned a lot from you and Sam, Dean. And one of the things I've learned is that friendship, family – _love_ – it isn't always about supporting each other unconditionally. It isn't always about agreeing with the steps someone takes or abiding by the choices they make. Sometimes it's looking that loved one in the face and telling them they are headed in the wrong direction. Sometimes it's not understanding and accepting, but defying them, _fighting_ them, because you _know_ that you cannot allow them to pursue a certain course…unless every other option has been exhausted, and I mean _exhausted_."

Dean nodded. "I know, Cas. You're right. I didn't mean to make you feel that you were any less of a friend because you couldn't get behind me on this." Because this was a night for showing emotion, he took Castiel's hand and squeezed it. "Next to Sam, you're the one I trust and count on the most. Even more than Mom. That won't change."

"Thank you." The angel took another sip of whiskey.

"Hell, I would have reacted the exact same way." Dean allowed himself a chuckle. "I _have_ done…like you said, you got it from me and Sam."

"To be honest," the angel muttered, "I wasn't looking forward to the complete emotional wreck that Sam would have been had you gone ahead." Seeing Dean flinch, he continued, "I would have been there for him – always – and done my best. But Dean – I don't think _my_ best will ever be as good as _your_ best."

It was true. Dean knew that as surely as he knew that if Sam were gone for good, he would go off the deep end. If he had ever doubted his brother's attachment, then Sam's utter devastation at the prospect of burying Dean was all it took for Dean to shake off any lingering uncertainties – and there really hadn't been any, not for several years now. In the past, yes, he had sometimes questioned Sam's feelings, wondered how much his brother truly needed him, had asked himself if he was more of an albatross around Sam's neck, preventing him from living the life he'd always wanted…but not any longer. Dean knew that Sam's life was incomplete without him, just as his would be incomplete without Sam. Dean knew that the only life Sam would ever want was one that had his big brother in it.

"There was a time when I didn't understand love." Castiel's voice broke into Dean's thoughts. "I didn't feel it, I didn't know it, I certainly couldn't comprehend it. It's you two, Dean – you and Sam who have taught me what love is. All I know is what I've observed from the two of you."

Dean's chest swelled with something tight and painful and when he next spoke his voice was shaky. "Thanks Cas," he whispered. "Maybe I needed to hear that."

Later, on the way to his room, Dean paused outside Sam's door. He was sure the younger Winchester wouldn't be asleep. The recent days had been too harrowing for peaceful rest. There were still things Dean wanted to say, to make clear – too many to count and never enough intermissions in which a heart-to-heart seemed appropriate. That this could be the case even with the many profundities of their experiences made him feel both angry and sad. He would speak a few of them now, he'd make sure of it.

He knocked lightly and softly opened the door. As he'd expected, Sam was indeed awake, sitting on the side of his bed, staring at the wall. He didn't turn around as Dean stepped into the room, though he'd certainly heard him. His eyes remained fixed straight ahead as Dean slowly crossed to the bed and sat down beside him. For a few moments, there was just the sound of the two of them breathing, a sound that had taken on a faint air of relief since Dean had agreed to come home.

He tapped his brother's arm, lightly. "You feeling okay, man?"

"Better," came the response. Sam's voice was heavy but stable, which Dean took as confirmation of his answer. He gritted his teeth, as he tried to assemble what he was feeling into something that made sense and felt frustration at the difficulty of it. Oh, what the hell. Sometimes it was better to just shut down the mind and let the words tumble out as they choose.

"Sammy, look," he began, "I know I've put you through hell with all this and I want you to know that I'm sorry."

Sam chuckled, bitterly. "It hasn't been a picnic for either of us."

"No," Dean admitted. He sighed. "You know, I thought my plan was selfless – and it is, in a sense, sacrificing myself for the greater good, and all – but I was selfish too. I knew it was hurting you and didn't let myself see it, made myself ignore it, because I knew, Sam – I knew facing up to that would make me stay."

"But _are_ you staying?" Sam faced him, now, and his eyes were weary, droopy and somehow much older. "This is more like a postponement, isn't it?"

"Maybe. But maybe not. All depends on…well, you know. But you made me see it, Sammy. You made me realise that I can't give up until I know for certain that it's game over." He cleared his throat. "And I, uh…I also want to apologise for…for making you think that I didn't believe in the two of us. Because I really do, Sam. I admit, all the crap that gets thrown at us, sometimes it all piles up until it's too much, and I forget. I lose sight of all the breaks, all the wins, or the sheer luck. But you gotta know, man, I believe in you and me, I always have. And I always will."

"I can't blame you for forgetting." Sam's voice was dark with a tinge of anger. "After all, I haven't given you much to believe in at times, have I?"

The older Winchester's gaze was quizzical. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Sam's voice shook and Dean could see a tear threatening to drop from the corner of his eyelid. "I mean – if you forget, if you lose faith sometimes, well, what else should I expect? I've given you more than enough reason to."

Dean let out a sigh of exasperation. _Not this again_. "Sam, don't…"

"No, it's true!" Sam's interruption was angry, but it was a painful anger, directed only at himself. "When I left for college, it hurt you. I know it did. You didn't just think I wanted out of hunting, you thought I wanted out of the _family_. You thought I wanted to get away from you. And once we're together again, what do I do? I follow a _demon's_ advice over my own brother, I let her come between me and you…and then you went to purgatory and I didn't know what to do, Dean, I was at a complete loss, but I should have done _something_ – but I didn't. I gave up and didn't look for you, because I was stupid and frightened and clueless, and I abandoned the one person who's always been there for me, no matter what…" His lips were wobbling now, his shoulders shaking, and tears were rolling down his face. " _You_ think you haven't been the greatest brother to me? You've been the best big brother anyone could wish for, and I…I just make you stop believing and I'm sorry, Dean, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_ …"

He broke down and sobbed. An instant later, Dean was holding him close and stroking his hair, the tightness that had swollen in his chest beforehand now threatening to explode. For a few minutes, all he did was murmur "Shhh, shhh" while cuddling his younger brother, hoping his gentle tone was having the desired effect. As Sam's shuddering started to soften, Dean gripped his brother's arms.

"Sam," he said, firmly but lovingly, "we've gone over this before. Man, all that is in the past now, and I know we're still messed up from it, and we might sometimes need to talk about it, but believe me when I say that whatever mistakes you've made, they have _never_ made me lose faith in you. NEVER. I might have acted like they did, sometimes – you know what an asshole I can be when I'm pissed off – but whatever I might do or say when I'm angry, I never, ever mean it."

Sam sniffed, wiped a hand across his eyes. "You really mean that? After everything that I've done?"

" _Especially_ after everything that you've done," Dean confirmed. "Okay, we've both screwed up at times, we probably will in the future, it's the way things are – but Sammy, sometimes you're about the only thing I _can_ believe in, and that's what keeps me sane, man. _You_ keep me sane. You're there, you're always there, counting on me, giving me hope. When I was a demon, when I had the Mark – you never gave up, not once, and if there's one person I know will be there when it matters, it's you. I'm telling the truth, man. If you can't trust yourself, at least know that _I_ trust you, and I do, Sam, I trust you absolutely."

His brother nodded, seeming at last to accept Dean's words. "We keep the faith."

"We keep the faith," Dean repeated, clapping him on the shoulder. "As long as we can." He held his brother's gaze. "Thank you, Sam. For getting through to me."

"Least I could do," Sam said thickly, allowing himself a tiny laugh. "After all you've done for me? Everything you _keep_ doing for me? Dean, I don't know where I'd be without you, I don't even want to think about it. I don't want to run Dad down, he was a good man and he tried to be a good father in the way that he knew how…but it was you, Dean, it was you who taught me what love is, what loyalty is, what family is. All you. And I'm damned if I'm going to accept a future where I don't have you – I am going to do everything I can to find you a way out of this Michael situation."

Dean's own tears were now threatening to appear and the last thing he thought Sam needed was to see his big brother weeping now. He stood up and spoke quickly, "Well if you're okay now, man, we'd better try to get some rest. We got hard work ahead of us."

Sam nodded his agreement. "Yeah. Good night, Dean."

"Good night, Sammy." And then, because this was a night for showing emotion, Dean pulled his brother into another quick hug and placed a tender kiss upon his forehead. "See you in the morning."

He headed to his own room, leaving Sam to find relief in those parting words – _see you in the morning_. As for Dean, he sank thankfully into his bed and let his tears fall, grateful for the release. He allowed his eyes to leak and let himself be guided into a teary, but peaceful slumber.

There were no bad dreams that night.


End file.
